


Waves // Tronnor Mermaid AU

by Turquink



Category: Connor Franta - Fandom, tronnor - Fandom, troye sivan - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, Set in 1989, Slow Burn, Tronnor, connor is a fucking hipster, mermaid, mermaid au, more tags added as the story goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turquink/pseuds/Turquink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1989. Connor Franta is stuck in a dead-end job on the edge of a pier in a small town in North Carolina. Connor thinks this summer will be like every one he's had in the past. However, that changes when he captures a glimpse of something extraordinary one evening at the beach, because hidden in the waves is a boy with a smile like the sun, curls that shine like bronze in the dying twilight, and electric blue eyes that make Connor completely and irrevocably intrigued.</p>
<p>Troye Sivan is a mermaid, forced to live within the confines of the mermaid settlement off the coast. The Council's strict rules aren't enough to keep him from exploring the surface world. He wants to prove the humans aren't as bad as everyone knows them to be--even if it kills him.</p>
<p>Cross-posted to Wattpad, updates every week or so. It's probably a bad time to be writing Tronnor fics, but eh. *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The pier on which Connor stood was crowded. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure why that was a surprise to him. It was a Thursday afternoon, right at the beginning of June, just three days after school had let out in the tiny town of Primrose, North Carolina.

At least until September. All in all, he supposed his high school career wasn't too bad, and it definitely could be worse. A lot worse.

Connor was shaken out of his thoughts as he was lightly but insistently tapped on the shoulder by someone. He was so startled that he almost dropped his camera, yelping as he scrambled to catch it. As he secured his grip on it, he quickly searched it for any damage. His Polaroid was his most prized possession, and definitely the most expensive thing he owned. It had taken him two full summers' worth of minimum wages to purchase, and he treated it like it was his child.

"C-Can I help you?" Connor asked, still a little scatterbrained. _Pull yourself together_ , he told himself. He barely registered the teenage girl in front of him as she talked.

"--icture of me and my boyfriend, please?" she asked, voice lilting a little too much and smiling a little too wide. Connor nodded.

"Of course," he said, running a nervous hand through his brown, wavy hair. He kind of regretted not doing anything with it today, but he had been late out of the house as he was. Connor stepped back a step to look at the girl and her boyfriend for a moment. The girl was petite and blonde, with wide blue eyes and long, dark lashes; her boyfriend was much taller, about 6'0", with sandy blonde hair and a white smile as he watched his girlfriend.

"Move a little to the left," he murmured, gently moving the boy's shoulder so he shuffled to the left. He took a moment to consider the lighting and angle, then got onto his tiptoes to make himself that much taller to make sure the seaweed floating just off the edge of the pier wouldn't make it into the shot. He snapped two photos and waited while they printed out, then shook them quickly so the ink would dry. He examined them closely, chewing his lip slightly. Perfect.

"That'll be five dollars, please," Connor stated, tucking one of the photographs into the back pocket of his jeans as the girl started to rifle around for her wallet. The boyfriend spoke up and told her he'd take care of it, then handed Connor the money. They thanked him and walked away.

Connor sighed, leaning against the side of the booth near the end of the pier. He couldn't say he hated his job; in fact, photography was the thing he loved most in the whole world! But he would be lying if he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life taking pictures of giggly teens silhouetted by the blue ocean. Not to mention that it was incredibly hard to get business, now that technology was picking up speed. It was 1989, after all, and cameras would only continue to get more and more accessible, which, if Connor was frank with himself, would mean that in a few years this job would be virtually payless.

Connor glanced down at his right wrist at his watch--the second most expensive thing he owned, a family heirloom given to him on his seventeenth birthday eight months ago--and saw that it was almost time for his shift to end.

"Thank _god_ ," Connor murmured under his breath. Even though it was still early June, this summer was predicted to be the hottest in years. Connor was already sweating, and he'd been in the shade most of the day. He'd only taken two pictures today, one being the one he just took and another of an older couple, holding hands and looking out over the ocean. He drew the saved Polaroid out of his pocket and looked it over. He grabbed a pen from the table in the booth and scribbled down the back:

_June 3rd, 1989_

He flipped the photo back over and analyzed it again. The girl's hair was a little messy, but okay looking. But the boy...he had possibly the brightest smile Connor had seen in a while, and nice, broad shoulders--

Connor shook the thoughts out of his head, trying to pretend that he didn't feel anything. _It's just a little jealousy,_ he told himself, _you were just trying to figure out what she saw in him, what you need to be like. Calm down. You're normal._

Somehow, Connor doubted that. A lot.

Suddenly, Connor felt a hard slap on the back.

"Hiya, Connie!" he heard a loud voice practically yell into his ear. Connor yelped and nearly jumped a foot in the air, spinning around in surprise only to see the wide, violently blue eyes of his best friend, Tyler.

"God, Ty, you nearly killed me!" Connor exhaled, glad it was Tyler and not some random stranger yelling in his ear. Tyler grinned.

"Hey, shouldn't you be used to it by now?" he said. Connor shrugged, then started laughing as he flipped"Closed For the Day!" sign over to display to the public.

"I guess you're right," he admitted. "Where to today?" Tyler tapped his finger against his chin, deep in thought.

"How about...Andy's?" he suggested. Connor agreed, and the two started the walk to the local pizza place.

Andy's wasn't too far from the pier and it was never crowded at this time of day, so Tyler and Connor were able to get a booth in the corner of the restaurant fairly easily. As Tyler blabbed on about something he had seen down at the beach, Connor couldn't pay attention.

"Connor? Are you even listening?" Tyler said, leaning back on his side of the table and pouting as their steaming-hot pepperoni pizza was placed in front of them. "I think this is something you wanna hear," Tyler prodded, grabbing a slice. Connor rolled his eyes.

"If this is another plot to get me a date or something, it's not going to work," Connor said. He'd been down that path enough times to realize that Tyler was a _very_ bad matchmaker. He always managed to set him up with girls that, while interesting and likable, just...weren't attractive to him at all. He didn't have time to ponder that for long, though, because Tyler kept talking.

"Though that _is_ a thing we need to work on"-- cue eye roll number two from Connor--"this is much cooler."

"Tell me what it is, then!" Connor exclaimed, shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. Tyler grinned.

"There's a film team in town, over by the west end of town. Heard something about a documentary on the oceanic wildlife around here," he said.

"And...?" Connor asked, eyebrows raised. He wasn't exactly following. Tyler let out an exasperated sigh.

"And!" Tyler said indignantly, "This could be your big break, Con!"

Connor thought Tyler had been joking, but when he saw the serious look on Tyler's face, he burst out laughing.

"Y-You're being s-serious?!" he asked in between gasps for air. "Tyler, I'm nowhere near that good. Waterproof cameras are stupid expensive, you know that." He did. Connor had gone on many rants lamenting the lack of underwater cameras.

Tyler looked a bit annoyed. "Well, it's pretty much the same thing, right? Just, I dunno, take some pictures of a starfish or some shit and give it to 'em."

The rest of their lunch break was devoted to laughing at each other and complaining about their bosses ("Leroy is such a dick! I feel like shit trying to get people to play rigged games. You should feel lucky, Con."). When it was time to go, the two boys exited the pizza place together.

Before they could leave, though, the table at the front with a bunch of teenage boys whooped and hollered at them. Connor recognized them as seniors from their school, and instantly felt himself try to shrink. However, Tyler held his head high as they approached the door.

"Hey there, faggot!" jeered one of the boys at the table, "Sucked any good dick lately?"

"Only yours, babe," Tyler called out over his shoulder as he and Connor dashed out of the pizza place. "Hey, Con, you alright? You're shaking," Tyler asked when they were a good distance away, looking at Connor with concern. Connor realized that he _was_ shaking.

"Y-Yeah," he answered. The two walked in silence for a moment, and Connor looked over at him. Tyler looked unphased, like the boy at Andy's had called out a friendly hello. He walked with absolute confidence, even though there was now a noticeable frown where there previously was a smile.

"Ty?"

"Yeah, Con?"

"How..." Connor breathed before he continued, trying to figure out how to get his meaning across. "How do you put up with that shit?" Tyler side-eyed him, but kept walking.

"You don't, really," Tyler mused, staring at a fixed point in the distance. "You just have to keep hoping that somehow, someday, things will be better. And not just for me, but everyone like me." The boys stopped when they reached Connor's house.

Connor placed a gentle, comforting hand on Tyler's shoulder. He was never the best with comforting, and Tyler was never the best at accepting comfort. The two shared a moment of silence, and then Tyler spoke up.

"So! Um," he said, trying to change the subject, "I really do think you should go talk to the film team. It could still be a cool experience just talking to them, y'know?" Connor smiled.

"Thanks for looking out for me, man," Connor said. He walked up the stairs of his front porch, sending a half-wave to Tyler as he left for his own house. Connor opened the front door and stepped inside, immediately bolting up the narrow staircase to his small bedroom.

Connor loved his room. It wasn't big, but it didn't need to be; it had a cozy charm, what with the bay window overlooking the ocean, little window boxes of yellow flowers underneath the panes of glass. Connor's bed had been pushed into a corner, neatly made with maroon blankets. The floors were a sandy hardwood, and his bookshelf was packed till nearly bursting. Little arrangements of dried flowers, pretty seashells, pressed fall leaves, and stacked music CDs littered the surfaces. Connor placed his camera in its place of honor (his nightstand) and stepped over to the far wall.

It was a project Connor had begun when he had first gotten his camera. Every time he took a photograph that spoke to him--like the ones of the waves at sunset, or a close-up of the window boxes, or even the profile of Tyler when his hair was dyed purple--he would tape it up on his wall. He had nearly half of the wall covered by photographs, and as he taped up the picture of the girl and her boyfriend from earlier, he gazed at what his photographs combined to make: a wall of color and experiences.

Connor turned on his radio and shifted the dial until it was equal parts static and the local music channel, then flopped onto his bed, grabbing a worn book off his nightstand and flipping it to the bookmarked page.

He was settling in for a calm, quiet night. Just as he liked.

Little did he know that this would be the last for a long, long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We accompany Connor on one of his frequent late-night walks--only this time, something is different.

Connor jumped down the stairs of his front porch, gripping his camera tight in one hand and flashlight in the other. After a quiet dinner with his mother (his father was off in Panama with the army) and finishing up the chapter in his book, Connor decided it was about time for him to head out. The sun was low in the sky, so he still had enough light to see well. However, that would change in around forty-five minutes, hence the flashlight.

In Connor's opinion, the twilight really brought out a different side of the beach he had grown up on. It made it much more mysterious, much more...deep. Connor made these nightly visits to the beach nearly every other night, sometimes taking photographs, sometimes sitting and thinking, sometimes writing poetry in the sand with a stick.

Connor rounded the corner and crossed the street to reach the shore, the soft white sand crunching under his black Converse. He had spotted a neat outcropping of rock a few days prior, and wanted to check it out. Despite these frequent excursions, he had never gone into that area of the beach before.

Connor ran across the sand to the rock formation, carefully making his way around to find a secluded section of beach.

"Whoa," he breathed out. The way the setting golden sun hit the alcove was stunning; the dark rocks glittered with seawater, glinting with promises. The waves lapped gently at the shore and Connor spotted several seashells poking up out of the sand. Between the edge of the cliffside that flanked the ocean and the ocean itself was a section of beach that was completely disconnected from the outside world.

Connor sat on a rock jutting out of the base of the cliff, balancing his camera on his knee as he adjusted some of the settings. From where he sat, he could see a few large rocks poking up out of the waves, and he briefly wondered if he could convince Tyler to do a shoot here, maybe reenact that scene from the trailer of that new Disney movie about mermaids that's slated to be released later that year.

Connor raised his camera up to his face, adjusting the focus to zoom in on a rock moderately far from shore to show to Tyler. He bit his lip in concentration and decided to wait for the clouds to get out of the way of the setting sun, for just the right moment--

Suddenly, through the zoom of the camera, Connor saw a large, dark shape move on top of the rock. Connor gasped and his finger slipped as the shape turned toward him.

CLICK!

The sound of the shutter closing and the picture printing was louder than usual, or maybe that was just because Connor was trying to be as quiet as possible. However, at the sound of the picture being printed, the shape immediately turned towards him and hissed. The very sound made Connor's spine shiver with unease. As soon as it appeared, it vanished with only a small splash into the water.

Connor gulped as he examined the photograph. He trained his shaking flashlight on it, tracing the lines of the figure. He can't make out what it is, though, not in the dying evening light. Connor shook it around so the ink would dry and started off at a dead sprint for his house.

When he got home, he kissed his mother on the cheek and dashed up the stairs. He fumbled around his lamp to turn it on and held the photo underneath it, examining it closely.

The lighting wasn't too bad, but the focus was blurry from the creature's movement. It was a dark shape, but since it was silhouetted on the light blue water, it wasn't too hard to tell the basic shape. Connor caught the shape of what looked to be an arm, flung up to cover the creature's face. It was trying to turn away, it seemed.

Connor would have thought that it was just an illusion, a trick of the shadows. It could have been a seal, or a dolphin, or even another human.

That is, he would have thought that. If he didn't see the brightly, almost unnaturally glowing electric blue eyes and a head of soft-looking bronze curls, illuminated by the setting sun.

Connor didn't know what he was looking at.

Fortunately, he knew where to find someone who might.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was a Friday. Connor groggily woke up at the annoying sound of his alarm, and slapped the snooze button so he could collapse back into bed for five more minutes. He had stayed up far later than usual last night, trying to come up with some sort of logical explanation for the photograph. Now, he slipped the Polaroid into his back pocket as he got ready, running a brush through his hair a few times and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. Connor rushed down the stairs and grabbed an apple on the way out, closing the front door quietly behind him. His mother was already at work for the day; she had to take double shifts to provide for the both of them.

Connor's shift at the photo booth on the pier started ten minutes ago, and Connor jogged so that he wouldn't be later than he already was. He had to be there to take pictures of the sunrise, after all. That and he really wanted to keep this job. He'd been caught goofing around with Tyler (who worked at the ring toss booth down the pier) for too long before, and his boss did not like it.

The sun had just risen over the pale blue waters of the Atlantic as Connor arrived at the booth. He went to flip over the "Closed" sign to "Open", but stopped when he saw it was already in place. He felt his stomach drop as he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

"Ahem," he heard, and Connor took a deep breath before turning around to face them. In front of him stood his boss, Mai Sasaki. She huffed, crossing her arms angrily. Connor winced. This was the second time she had caught him being late.

"Mr. Franta," she said coolly, tapping her foot impatiently. "What excuse for being late do you have this time?"

Connor spluttered around for an answer. He ran into traffic? No, he walked here every day. He didn't want to be here? True, but he kind of needed this job. He had stayed up late studying a photograph of what he thought was a freaky half-human, half creature monstrosity?

...probably not the best answer.

"I-I overslept," Connor muttered. Mai regarded him for a moment, then sighed.

"Connor, you need to start shaping up. If I'm going to leave the booth in your control, I need to be able to trust you to be here on time. Business is already scarce as it is." With a disappointed look, she then said, "If you're late one more time, you're fired." She then walked back into the back of the booth, beginning her morning routine.

Connor sighed as he started setting up his tripod for the day. His thoughts were racing ahead of him to when, where, how he could find that film crew and how he could get someone to talk to him. How would he get anyone to take him seriously? If he just walked on set ("Do documentaries even have sets?") and announced, "Hey, I took a picture of some freaky shit, whaddaya think!", how would they react?

Connor didn't realize he was chewing his lip nervously until he tasted the iron tinge in his mouth.

When his shift finally ended after several uneventful hours of snapping uninteresting photographs and trading obscene gestures with Tyler across the pier, the sun was high in the sky. Connor had an hour for his lunch break before he had to be back at the booth for the evening rush. (He used the term very loosely. "Rush" really meant "six or seven people".)

Connor ran up to Tyler's booth, where the blonde boy was sitting on a stool resting his cheek on his palm, looking bored out of his mind. He lit up when Connor walked over, though.

"Connie!" He exclaimed, sending him a quick grin. "What's up? I hope you're not here to try to win something. All of these rings are warped," he whispered, as if the whole town didn't know that Leroy's Ring Toss was the shadiest booth on the pier.

Connor laughed. "No, sorry. I was wondering if you knew where that film crew you mentioned yesterday would be...?" Tyler thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"I heard they were staying at the Sandcastle. Maybe they're out on the beach this time of day, who knows?" He said. Connor rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for the help," Connor said sarcastically. Tyler giggled and swatted Connor's hand away when he went to mess with his hair.

"Hey! Leave my hair alone!" He pouted. "It's the only reason people even walk up to this booth, ya know." Connor called a goodbye over his shoulder as he started running down the pier towards the street.

He had a castle to crash.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor meets the head of the documentary crew and makes a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy NaNoWriMo, everyone!

The Sandcastle Inn & Suites was a small establishment in Primrose, with only a dozen or so rooms that opened up onto the white, sandy beaches. It was owned by a longtime resident of the community and all of the employees were family members. Connor had an acquaintance who worked there, but he had never really talked to him, just acknowledged his presence in classes.

Connor burst into the lobby with only twenty minutes to spare, panting from the strain of running all the way across town. He looked up to see the boy--he was pretty sure his name was Phil--and smiled sheepishly.

"H-Hi?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. Damn, he needed to get more in shape.

"Can I...help you with something?" Phil asked, looking down at him with concerned blue-grey eyes. Connor cleared his throat before speaking.

"Um, yeah," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, "do you know where the documentary film crew is?" He hoped Phil would know who he was talking about; it was a small town, after all.

Phil's eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, yeah! They're setting up on the beach right now, I think," he said, gesturing to the open French doors at the end of the lobby. Before he could ask why, Connor had muttered a quick "Thanks!" and dashed out the door. The black-haired boy was left in the dust, watching Connor's retreating form.  
Connor ran out onto the sand, grabbing the Polaroid from his pocket. He glanced around anxiously, trying to figure out what he was doing. He spotted a large setup of black film equipment, contrasting the white beach underneath his feet. He read over to it, suddenly realizing he had no idea what he was doing or who he was going to show...whatever that picture was...to.

Connor stopped at the edge of the film setup, tugging at the edge of the Polaroid in his hands nervously. He could see members of the film crew darting about, checking equipment and running errands. Connor took a deep breath, then slowly started walking towards a group of people standing in a cluster by three large cameras.

As he was crossing the sand, Connor suddenly heard a loud cracking noise behind him. He inhaled sharply as he felt himself being shoved to the side and to the ground. Connor cradled the Polaroid to his chest as he hit the ground, hard, with the weight of someone else over top of him. He heard the crash of something hitting the ground right beside him, and dazedly looked up from the sand to survey the damage. He glanced to the side to see that one of the poles to hold up video cameras had collapsed where he had been   
standing just seconds ago, and glanced forwards to see if anyone had been hurt.

Instead, he was met with brilliant blue eye trapped behind thick, black-rimmed glasses less than two inches away from his face.

Connor's eyes widened in surprise, and he shot up from the ground, feeling his cheeks go red with embarrassment. The man stood up and brushed himself off, and Connor allowed a few seconds to really take him in. The man who had pushed Connor out of the way was a few inches taller than him, with sandy blonde hair and a mole on his right cheek. He smiled gently at Connor before dismissing the gaping film crew with a wave of his hand, saying, "Back to business, everyone!" in a chipper British accent. The man turned back to Connor and smiled warmly.

"Sorry for such a rude introduction, but if I hadn't pushed you out of the way, you'd be in a lot worse shape than that pole," he said, motioning to where the large black pole didn't even have so much as a dent in it. Connor took a shaky, nervous breath before sticking out his hand like a stiff mannequin.

"I'm Connor. C-Connor Franta," he stammered. The man took his hand and shook it firmly.

"Charlie McDonnell, director of this operation," the man supplied. Connor nodded in acknowledgement. "Right. Now that we've introduced ourselves, is there something you needed?"

Connor was surprised that Charlie wasn't angry with some kid walking onto his set and screwing shit up, to say the least. He couldn't mess this up.  
"I-I'm a photographer, and I was wondering if you could tell me anything a-about...this?" Connor stammered, holding out the photograph. Charlie's eyebrow quirked up as he gingerly took the Polaroid from Connor's hand, examining it closely.

"What did you say your name was?" Charlie murmured. If Connor had been paying any less attention, he wouldn't have even registered that Charlie had said anything.

"Connor Franta, sir. I live here in town," Connor supplied, fidgeting nervously. God, what was going on inside this guy's head?

"Well, Mr. Franta," Charlie said appreciatively, handing the photograph back to him. "This is a very...intriguing photograph. I would like it very much if you would meet with me later to discuss this." Charlie sounded very serious, blue eyes boring straight into Connor's soul. Connor gulped, then nodded.

"My job ends at eight," Connor replied. Charlie's face lit up, and he clapped his hands together with an air of finality, like Connor had just signed away his firstborn child.

"Fantastic! Meet me here then, and we can discuss this," Charlie said, motioning to the picture Connor held in his hand. Connor nodded excitedly.

"Y-Yes! Of course, I-I will," Connor said. Charlie smiled warmly again.

"I'll see you then. Goodbye, Connor." With that, Charlie turned away and started shouting at the film crew, telling them to start moving down the beach to set up for the first segment of filming that day.

Connor slowly trekked back to the Sandcastle, eyes wide the whole time. Did...that really just happen? he asked himself. I just talked to the lead director of a documentary. And he wants to talk to me about my photograph.

Connor didn't snap out of his trance until he felt an insistent tug on his shoulder and a loud voice in his ear.

"Connor!" The proximity made Connor jump backwards, and he was surprised to see that it was Phil. "You alright, man? You're walking like a zombie."

"I'm fine, thanks," Connor said, smiling appreciatively. It was nice of him to be concerned for Connor, even though Phil barely knew him. Phil grinned back.  
Connor stepped out of the Sandcastle Inn & Suites and, for the first time since his arrival, glanced at his watch. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. How did thirty minutes pass that quickly?!

Connor took off at a sprint towards the boardwalk, dreading the fact that he was late--for the second time that day--and really, really hoping Mai wouldn't be waiting at the booth.

She was.

Connor could see her bright red hair from the end of the boardwalk. He considered slinking back to land instead, but Mai had caught sight of him and was now walking briskly towards him. Connor sighed and anxiously ran a hand through his brown hair.

When Mai reached him, she was fuming. "Where the hell have you been?! Your shift started twenty minutes ago!" she demanded. When Connor offered no excuse, she sighed. "Connor, I'm sorry, but I need you to collect your things and go. I need to have someone I can trust manning my booth."

Connor's eyes widened with fear. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out at the disappointed look on Mai's face. Instead, he shut his mouth, clenched his jaw, and walked back off the pier towards the mainland.

When he was out of eyesight of the pier, Connor started running. To where, he had no idea. He just kept going, thoughts of failure and you needed that money and Mom can't support you forever swirling over and over in his mind.

Connor was so distracted that he barely noticed he was headed towards the outcrop of rock until he arrived there.

And he definitely didn't notice the loud, out-of-place splash that came from near the rock, diving out of sight and into the safety of the shadows.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Troye.

Troye floated, motionless, transfixed by the glittering effect of the sun on the waves. They sparkled as they rolled over him, the current not too strong. Troye sighed, lips curling up into a subtle smile. He loved days like this; the warm rays shining down through the water, warming his pale skin and making his freckles glow blue with happiness. He could stay like this forev--

“Troye! Troye, get back down here!” he heard a voice call. Troye started, then turned around to gaze down through the water at his friend, who was swimming around on the ocean floor. Dan was waving at him from the sand, frantically glancing around. “Dude, come on! You don’t want to be seen, do you?”

Troye rolled his eyes, but nevertheless twisted his body and swam down to meet Dan at the bottom of the ocean floor.

Dan raked a hand through his dark hair, pinned back with a shell clip. He usually liked to let it float down in front of his face, but the head of their squad had told him to keep it pinned back. His onyx black tail flicked back and forth nervously. 

“Are you alright?” Troye asked. Dan often got like this when Troye went near the surface; the humans were to be avoided at all costs. Not that Troye actually cared about that.

“Yeah. Could you come help, you know, actually do our job?” Dan groaned. “The faster we get done, the faster I can go take a nap or something. Shane found a nice warm crack in the ocean floor—“

“Sure,” Troye cut him off, his own cerulean tail flicking back and forth as the two swam side-by-side. The woven seaweed satchels they carried were filled with clams, muscles, and crabs to be taken back to the village. There, the cooks would boil them over the hot spots, and that would be dinner; the next day, they’d be sent out to scavenge once again. Every day was the same, and though Dan didn’t mind it, Troye was always restless, wondering if there was something more. 

The two swam in silence for a while, but suddenly, Troye spoke up. “Dan? Have you ever…been to the surface?”  
Dan made a “pfft” sound, and shook his head, the luminescent purple freckles disappearing as he turned his head. “Absolutely not. Why would you even ask that? You know the Council’s rules. Besides, it’s a wasteland up there. You know that.”

Troye stopped, twisting his body around so that he was facing his best friend. “That’s where you’re wrong!” Troye responded. Dan stopped in his tracks, tail flicking backward so he wouldn’t crash into Troye. “The surface isn’t a wasteland like they’ve been telling us. It’s warm, and green, and…and beautiful!” 

Dan laughed humorlessly. “And where did you get those notions? It’s not like you’ve been up there.” Troye met his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Dan groaned and hit it forehead with his palm. “You went up to the surface, didn’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Troye said with an agitated energy. It had been awful having to keep his secret for so long, after he had begun visiting the surface by night. “You should come with me one night. The moon is so much more beautiful than from down here. And there’s these sparkles in the sky—you can’t see them from the bottom!” Troye’s luminescent freckles glowed light blue with excitement as he talked.

Dan looked uncertain. He had always been one to go by the Council’s rules: do your job, never go to the surface, never interact with humans. Troye had often talked about dreams of the surface before; he had just dismissed them as impossible.   
Troye read the look on Dan’s face, and his own face fell. “Never mind. Forget it.” Troye swam ahead of Dan, ignoring him for the rest of the outing.

The thoughts in Troye’s head ran at a mile a minute. How to sneak out, go to the surface, then get back in time for his family to not realize he was gone. It had been a risky business, but it was so worth it. He was just lucky his family of five lived near the edge of the mermaid settlement; if he had been one of the sons of the Council members who governed the small village, it would have been impossible to sneak out. The Council had put laws in place that would mean death for anyone caught interacting with the terrifying humans, classifying it as treason against the mermaid race. Troye couldn’t understand why everyone else he had ever known was so dead against visiting the surface.

However, he supposed he had never actually seen a human up there—with their long fangs and sharp claws, their tails split in two right down the middle. It was said that they were mermaids who disobeyed the High Council, and who had their tails cut in two and thrown into the wasteland that existed above the surface. They would attack any mermaid, going into a blind, jealous rage. Troye shivered at the thought, the tales his parents had told him as a child flooding back into his mind as he swam.

He had proven them all wrong, though. How could all the stories be true when the “wasteland” wasn’t a wasteland at all? If that was false, what else could be?

Troye had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized he had stopped swimming until Dan crashed into him with a yelp. Troye nearly faceplanted into the sand, catching himself just before impact.

“Are you okay?” Troye asked, turning around suddenly. Dan grimaced and rubbed his temple. 

“Yeah. I’m…I’ll go on back. Want me to take your stuff for you?” Dan offered sheepishly. Troye looked at him, bewildered, and Dan shrugged.

“I’m not going to go with you, but I’m not going to stop you, either.” A grin cracked on Dan’s face as Troye whooped with joy, practically throwing his satchel at him as he swam away, bubbles cropping up in his wake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two boys meet, and in which I forgot to add the first part to Chapter 5.

Troye swam as fast as he could towards the usual place. It was a nice, hidden shelf of rock, and there was a certain rock that stuck out of the surf that offered the perfect spot of sunshine. Troye’s blue tail propelled him quickly, and he moved through the water effortlessly. 

Troye broke through the surface of the water, gasping at the unfamiliar feeling of no water as he shook his bronze curls free of the water droplets. The first time he had surfaced, he had panicked and ducked back down beneath the waves. Eventually he got used to it, closing the gills on the sides of his neck and instead using his nose and mouth to breathe.

Troye’s dorsal fin stuck out of the water as he swam towards his rock. He pulled himself up onto it, flopping onto his back with a sigh. The rock was worn smooth form the surf, and it was warm from the sun. Troye smiled to himself and flopped over, spreading his arms as he gazed up into the sky.

The sun shone brightly, so bright he couldn’t look at it like he could from under the water; there were no puffy white things in the sky today, nothing to obscure the gorgeous blue of the sky. Troye hummed to himself, eventually breaking out into straight-up song. He wasn’t too good—at least, that’s what he thought—but the songs the village sang at festivals found their way to the front of his mind, making their way up his throat and into the air in sweet song.

Suddenly, Troye heard something unfamiliar: the sound of something hitting the sand over and over. Troye turned and searched for the source of the sound, and when he found it, his eyes grew large. 

There was…something running across the beach. Troye immediately splashed down into the water

Troye swam behind the cover of the rock and popped his head above the waves curiously to get a better look. The thing had stopped moving now, bent over and breathing hard. Its skin was a strange light brownish color, and it didn’t have any of the glowing freckles Troye did. It wore clothes—something usually reserved for members of the Council—and a strange box hung around its neck. The most striking difference, however, was when Troye panned his eyes down and saw that the creature had no tail—simply two…two things, like a tail split down the middle.

Troye clapped a hand over his mouth before he could let out a scream. He was watching an actual, real human! Troye was just about to swim away as fast as he could when the human looked up and out over the water.

Troye couldn’t take his eyes away. This human…it wasn’t terrifying or ugly. It didn’t have sharp claws and the bloody stumps of a tail. 

Troye saw only forest-green eyes, more beautiful than any he had seen in the mermaid village. The human’s face was fair, and its hair looked soft and touch-able. Troye noticed that the human’s face was turned into one of despair, eyes sad and desperate.

The human was the most beautiful thing Troye had ever seen.

Suddenly, Troye lost his balance, and with a yelp crashed into the water.

~~~~~~~~

Connor stood on the sand in the small, secluded bay. He gasped for breath after running the full ten minutes here, doubling over and then just staring out into the horizon, thoughts circling through his head like hungry vultures. 

Suddenly, he heard a yelp and a crash. His head snapped towards it, and he caught a glimpse of…something blue? Connor’s eyes widened, and he backed up until he was pressed against the rock wall, as far away from the water as he could get.   
“Wh-What the hell?!” Connor called out. He was shaking now; what if it was the…the whatever, back to punish him for snapping a picture? Oh god, he was too young to die, he had so many hopes—

Suddenly, a head of bronze curls popped out of the water, shining in the midday sun. Connor took in fin-like ears, freckles dotting the creature’s cheeks and shoulders, and two large, gorgeous blue eyes.

The two stood, immobile, locked in a staring contest of sorts. One dared not look away from the other, lest they disappear. 

The spell was broken, however, when Connor’s let out a breathy “Whoa.” A shot of adrenaline went through him, and he stepped a few steps forward towards the surf and raised his camera to his eye.

The creature let out a shriek and dove back into the water, and Connor recoiled.

“Hey, wait! I’m sorry!” Connor called out. The waves did not stir. Connor’s shoulders slumped; he had missed his chance.

That is, until he noticed the creature’s head pop above the water, eyes wide with fear.

“D-Don’t hurt me!” it cried, tone fearful with a slight Australian accent. Its eyes were wide with caution, and it chewed its lip nervously. Connor noticed that tips of the creature’s teeth were pointy and sharp, and he felt a shiver run through him. He made it a point to look anywhere but the creature’s mouth. He took in the creature’s actual features—high cheekbones, smooth, pale skin, pink lips pursed in apprehension. If he wasn’t terrified halfway to hell, he might think the creature was actually kind of cute.

Connor stood, mouth agape dumbly for a moment. The creature didn’t take its eyes off of the camera in Connor’s hands. Connor curiously moved it towards the creature, and it quickly backed away.

“A-Are you,” Connor asked, wide-eyed, “are you afraid of my camera?”

“Cam…ra?” the creature responded, a curious light in its eyes. It rolled the word around, as if it was foreign. “What about the, um,” the creature seemed to search for the right word; Connor was just surprised it could speak English. “The thing you were doing earlier.” As it spoke, the creature became more sure of itself, voice losing its fearful tone and becoming steadily more comfortable—even though there was a cautious edge to its voice.

“…breathing?” Connor asked, confused. The creature let out an exasperated sigh.

“No!” it exclaimed. “The other thing.”

“Running?” Connor supplied. The creature nodded.

“Running, is that what it’s called? With your…” the creature pointed a blue-webbed finger at the lower half of Connor’s body.

“Um…legs?” Connor asked. The creature’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! Legs!” it said excitedly. It had drawn closer to the shore, and now Connor could see its shimmering blue tail flicking back and forth in the water. Connor sat down, no longer feeling threatened. The creature didn’t back away this time.

“Um, don’t take this the wrong way or anything,” Connor said, scratching the back of his name awkwardly. “But what exactly are you?”

“I’m Troye, and I’m a mermaid,” the creature replied. “You’re a human, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Connor said. “I’m Connor.”

Troye smiled, resting his head on his arms folded on the sand, tail still in the water. “Connor. I like the sound of that.” Connor grinned down at him. There was something about Troye that was so foreign, but so…familiar. 

Like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome to my first-ever Tronnor fic. I really hope you guys like it <3 It will be primarily from Connor's POV.
> 
> Updates will probably come and go at random. I'll try to be at least a little consistent :P
> 
> See you next chapter!


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